


There's No Better Life Than A Future

by StudioCapsicum



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Death!Melinda, F/M, Think discworld or the book thief, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 12:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13341165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StudioCapsicum/pseuds/StudioCapsicum
Summary: As Death, there's no one better to bond with than the man who dies over and over again.





	There's No Better Life Than A Future

Her pen was perfectly poised, fingers flexed, ready to sign her name to every file that sat in front of her, waiting for her approval. She groaned as yet another pile of manila folders was added to the increasingly messy stack on her desk. Grimacing, her assistant just took away her now cold cup of tea, and neatened the stacks on her desk before disappearing, leaving Melinda to her fate; an eternity of paperwork.

It felt like years had passed since she’d left her desk; since she’d had free time. The masses of underlings she’d hired over the years had taken all the fieldwork, leaving her with the all-important, yet incredibly draining paperwork.

She’d come to terms with it. Mostly.

Black briefcase propped against her desk, black flats, perfectly parallel on the marble floor; a vanilla candle burned on the corner of her desk, the small flame distracting as it flickered brightly. Being the boss certainly had its perks, and the 360-degree view from her circular office, unobstructed by anything on the horizon, was certainly a benefit.

There were blue skies as far as the eye could see. Dark, storming clouds had surrounded her many times before, so the endless blue was comforting; reassuring. A small reminder that she must be doing something right.

Grabbing yet another file from her stack, she sighed gently, her back perfectly straight as she readied her pen. The ‘completed’ pile never seemed to grow larger.

“Phillip J. Coulson.”

Funny, he’d been filed multiple times.

Generally, people were one and done. She glanced at their name one time and they were moved to the completed pile. But near misses were more common than they ever were, modern medicine keeping people alive for much longer than back in the days of the plague.

But Phillip J. Coulson was an interesting case. He’d stopped breathing three times, been shot six times, and stabbed twice. Your average human maybe had one of those events occur, but once in every generation, there was a _Phillip J. Coulson._ He just added extra hours of work to her life.

Before signing off on the paperwork, she spoke Antoine’s name. She wanted details. What did Phillip do? The man looked like an accountant, how could he possibly have taken up so much of her time? How could she still know so little about this man, when she knew so much about his quasi-deaths?

They really needed to update the paperwork system.

“Hey boss, what’s up?” He had a massive grin on his face, as per usual. Not many people were as cheerful as he was in the afterlife.

“I’ll be taking over the case for Phillip J. Coulson,” she stated, surprised by her own words. She couldn’t just leave her desk. There was still paperwork to be done. Spontaneous trips down to Earth weren’t anywhere on her agenda.

She paled slightly, it was so unlike her to do something impulsive. Eyes downcast, she explained, “This is a rare case, and I have decided to oversee it. The more times someone comes to the brink, the harder their transition is.”

Antoine flashed another smile. He’d never seen the Boss take a case before, but he’d heard tales of her skills, “Less work for me. Is that all, Boss?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” her bright red lips formed a thin line as she grimaced.

“I thought calling you Death was a little old-school these days,” his eyebrow raised nervously. No one wanted to annoy Death. Even the already dead.

“Call me May,” relieved, he nodded, his smile slowly returning to his features. “You can go now,” she shooed him away quickly, becoming more flustered by the second; it was the most she’d shared of herself since she’d taken the position. Saluting as he dissipated, his presence was gone, making her office feel cold once again.

God, she hated being called Death. It felt like an attack, the word tearing her apart from the inside out. Death. It was so ugly. It was rotten food, fruits so putrid that they fell from the tree, corpses dropping to the ground at the end of every Spring. The word was horror embodied, roiling around in people's’ stomachs until it ate them up.

And yet it was her title; her name.

Staring out the window, she watched as the rain started to fall, thin rivers running down the glass, heavy droplets obscuring her view. Sighing, she returned to her work, signing off on hundreds of thousands of deaths every moment. She tried not to think about the implications too much.

 

* * *

 

He was spread out on the couch, one leg thrown over the back, absentmindedly tapping his foot to the beat of music only he could hear, watching reruns of M*A*S*H* when she got her next call. Running his hand over his face, she watched from afar as he glanced at the phone over and over again, as if waiting for it to ring. Something about him felt so familiar, the way the corners of his mouth fell in frustration, the crinkles around his eyes and the lines on his forehead. They were almost second nature to her.

Melinda took her place on the empty chair next to him, running her eyes over him and waiting for something to happen. It didn’t look like anything menacing was just around the corner, but that seemed to be common with this man; Antoine always told the most engaging tales to his co-workers about this case.

The one time he’d had daggers made of pure light thrown at him, the time he’d spent three days without food or water in the desert.

It took a few minutes before the phone rang, and Melinda nearly jumped to her feet in shock when he lunged for it, nearly falling out of his seat in his haste. “Audrey?” he questioned immediately.

His face became more distraught as other person spoke, and Melinda just sat and waited as he started moving around the apartment.

“What do you mean he’s on his way? I thought this was a safe-house!” He was scared, he radiated nervousness as he grabbed his handgun from the kitchen counter.

It was all Melinda could do, to stand by and watch as an arrow floated through the window. The moment seemed like it was in slow motion, as the arrow punctured his chest and sailed through him. Knocked back with the force, Phil fell to the ground, a sickening thud as his head smacked against the wall. Shirt staining with blood that was quickly gushing out of the wound, he managed to raise his gun, propping his arm up on his leg as he aimed towards the window.

He was breathing heavily, groans emanating from him as she watched the blood stain grow larger. It was nearly her moment, but she wanted to see where it would go. Phillip was still holding on, and Melinda almost trusted that he wouldn’t need her.

Melinda almost didn’t notice the man in purple come up beside her, as Phil wheezed out to himself, “Really, a fucking arrow?”

The man in purple had his bow and arrow ready to draw, and Phil still hadn’t noticed his presence.

“Clint Barton. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Melinda felt the familiar sensation of someone close-by being on the brink of death, but she sustained her position, almost willing Phillip to come out of this one safely.

“Nice… to meet you. Wish… it was under… better circumstances.” He spoke with a strangled breath, words cut off as he was speaking them, turning his head to greet the man with a sincerity that not many other people would be able to conjure in such a moment.

He didn’t even bother to raise his gun at Clint, instead letting the gun fall to the floor as he brought his hand up to put pressure on his wound. Melinda watched in silence as Clint surveyed the man.

“An inch to the right and you would be dead right now. You can thank me for that later.” Clint said in a measured breath, the line sounding well-rehearsed.

“I have a feeling he won’t be thanking you for that one.” Melinda watched in fascination as a tall woman in black put her gun against the back of Clint’s head, “Really? A bow and arrow? What are you, Robin Hood?” The safety clicked off, and the man lowered his bow slowly.

Walking over to Phillip, Melinda almost thought she saw his eyes glance over to her, and his brow furrow in confusion. “You’re not… the usual one…” His eyes were falling shut, and she felt his pulse becoming lighter and lighter as the paramedics rushed in. The pool of blood on the floor shocked even the most seasoned doctors, who were all surprised that he was still alive.

Melinda had never heard of someone who had seen Death and lived before.

But this man had never been like the other ones.

 

* * *

  

Melinda hated to admit that the monotony of her job was only broken by Phil’s near-deaths. Nothing felt quite as nihilistic as wishing for the man to come to harm just so she could take a break from her paperwork.

Antoine appeared in front of her, almost looking sheepish.

“May, I wanted to ask you something.” He flushed slightly red, his eyes not quite meeting hers as he wrung his hands in front of himself.

Melinda gestured for him to continue, her interest piqued.

“Does Phil… I don’t know how to explain it. Does he… see you, just before he’s brought back?” He rushed on, not giving her time to answer, not that she knew how to, “The last time I worked on his case, he looked over at me just before the paramedics came over, and he just said, ‘oh it’s you again’, all breathy and shit because of course he was about to die, but he definitely said it. He even made eye contact with me. It’s never happened with any other client.” Antoine finally looked up at her, reminding her that he was just a young man, he didn’t know anything. His normally grinning face was lined with self-doubt.

“It happens occasionally, with those that are closer to the concept of death than most. I’ve never seen it before, but Phillip is an odd case in himself.” Melinda had done her research after he’d noticed her, there was something off about a man who could look Death in the eye and go on to live many more years.

Antoine still looked concerned but relaxed considerably at the explanation.

“So the dude’s died so many times that he almost knows us.” Melinda nodded slowly, it was a simple explanation, but it would do. “That’s dope,” his grin flashed at her again, almost brightening up the room.

Unable to help a small smile from gracing her face as Antoine left the room, she admitted to herself that he was her favourite employee. Initially, his over-familiarity had made her uncomfortable, but over the years, Melinda almost came to think of him as a son. Not that she’d ever admit it.

About to return her pen to the paper, to finish some more of her paperwork, she felt the ever-growing familiarity of Phil’s call, pulling her down to Earth. Something felt different about this time, but she couldn’t place what it was.

 

* * *

 

“I’m clocking out Boss.” Phil’s words were weaker than she’d ever heard them. She’d watched the whole event, and little did Phil realise that he’d actually been in the presence of three gods that night.

Melinda sat next to him, legs crossed beneath her as she cupped his cheek in her hand. Eyes opening slowly, just enough to make her out, he almost smiled.

“You’re… clearer this time.” He whispered as he leaned into her hand. Fury barely even noticed, waiting for the paramedics to come to the rescue. Phil was his right-hand man, he never expected him to actually die.

“Come with me,” she spoke, her words like a warm breeze across his face as she offered sanctuary. The world was becoming colder and colder.

Shivering, he tried to lean towards her, “I’ve never done this part before.” He wasn’t even sure he was making noise anymore, but she understood.

“That’s why I’m here. Just take my hand.” She smiled gently at him, making sure her eyes weren’t flickering down to the new wound in his chest.

It was incredibly easy to move his hand, easier than he’d anticipated. Heaviness weighed down on him, like a tonne of stones pressing him further towards the Earth. Yet his arm moved towards hers freely, his fingers cold against her warm, smooth skin. Gripping her hand like his life depended on it, he let her pull him to his feet.

“Don’t turn around, just look at me.” It was best to not let them look at their bodies, but Phil could still see Fury’s distraught face behind Melinda. “Phil, look at me.” There were tears forming in his eyes, but he managed a small smile as he followed her lead.

She was shorter than him but still had a commanding presence. Her lips were red and her skin flawless, and she looked incredibly familiar to him.

“I’m ready.” He said, his voice almost breaking as he tried not to think about everything he was about to leave behind. The stones had been lifted from his being, but he still remembered everything, all the people, all the places he’d never see again. But he looked into Death’s eyes and saw hope. Life wasn’t all there was, and for some reason, he trusted her to show him what his future would be.

Taking both of his hands in hers, they both slowly disappeared from Earth. Phil watched as everything disappeared, as Fury melted away from his view. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Fury had been the last thing he’d seen on Earth, but he looked at Melinda and smiled softly.

That was a much better image to die to.

 

* * *

 

Walking around her office, Phil was in awe. His mouth hung slightly agape as he tried to look outside, attempting to see how far up they were from the ground. But there was nothing but clouds under him.

“Where are we?” he asked, she was leaning against her desk, one leg crossed in front of the other as she tried to figure out why she’d brought him here.

“My office,” she said simply, running her eyes over him and trying to figure out what to say.

Looking down at himself, he tried to smile at her. “I look pretty healthy for a dead guy.” Unable to help herself, the corner of her mouth rose in a small smirk.

There was a weird tension in the room. He didn’t quite know how to react to the situation, and truth be told, he was trying to not break down. Suddenly, he turned around, his back facing her as a single tear slid down his cheek.

That was a tear for the people he’d miss.

He tried to resolve himself, to pull himself back together, but there was something about the familiarity of the hand on his shoulder that brought him crashing down.

It was all she could do; that seemed to be a common theme with them. She couldn’t really help him, but she could do the bare minimum. He didn’t turn to face her, but it felt right to have her thumb tracing circles on his shoulder as he muffled his tears in his hands.

Melinda knew for a fact that no one usually felt this familiar. Back when she’d been a simple agent, like Antoine, people had avoided her, fought against her and been uncomfortable in her presence.

But Phil seemed to draw strength from her.

She watched every shuddering breath that he took, every short gasp of air as he tried to steady his breathing. She could almost see the difference in his tears, which tears were for Audrey, which were for S.H.I.E.L.D., which were for the friends he’d made, and which tears were for the future he’d never have.

It felt like an eternity had passed, but also like time had stood completely still before he turned around to see her again. His eyes were red and puffy, and it nearly broke her to see how much pain he was in.

“What can I do?” she asked. She had to help him, she couldn’t stand idly by with this man, but she had no idea why.

“Can I… can I see other people who are… gone?” he asked finally, hoping beyond hope that he would be able to see his parents again, and maybe even see _her_.

“Anyone. Who would you like?” She was so eager to make him happy, she almost forgot about her professionality.

“My parents?” as soon as he said the words, two people appeared behind him. One looked exactly like Phil, but taller, and his mother had a warming smile on her face. Her face was older than theirs, wiser, with more lines and marks from the sun. A good life, full of joy, that Phil could remember every moment of. It had just ended too soon.

Phil was the same age as his father.

They hugged like they were tethering themselves to existence, and Robert cried like he never had before. The last time he’d seen his son, Phil had been young, running around and playing baseball, helping him with Lola. There was nothing that could tear him away from his family now, and the tall, proud man wept, for his son and the life they could have had.

Melinda had always thought of death as the absence of life.

Phil’s mother covered him in kisses, and had Phil been thirteen again, he would have pushed her away, but seeing her looking healthy, unlike the last few years she’d spent with him, made him only want to pull her closer.

He felt an odd feeling in his brain, almost like a headache. His mother’s fingers ghosted over his jaw, and he looked up to see the proud look in both of their eyes. No words needed to be spoken in that moment, but as they slowly dissipated from view, he thought of a myriad of things he could have conveyed.

He knew they’d be proud. Of how much he loved, how much he lost, how much he’d gained and how much he’d learned. That one look was all he had now.

Looking up at Melinda, he was still grasping the air that they’d occupied. “What happened to them?”

“I’m sorry, they have a more tenuous grip on life than you do. I thought they’d last longer but you must be much closer to Earth than they are.”

Phil nodded at the explanation, “but I’ll be able to stay with them when I leave here?”

Melinda smiled gently, “You’ll be able to stay with whomever you want.”

“Can I…” he paused, unsure of himself. “Can I see Melinda May?”

Melinda’s stomach dropped. That’s why he was so familiar. He knew her.

She didn’t remember any of her previous life, how was she supposed to explain that to him?

Turning away sharply, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window.

It was a ghastly image, her face completely gaunt. She was almost skeletal, living up to her name and reputation. Still dressed in business attire, she felt the same as she always had, but her image was completely opposite to what she once was. She remembered being powerful, a force in herself, but she’d wasted away to almost nothing. Death was more than a title now, it was herself, she was Death both in name and in stature.

He made the connection before she could explain.

“Melinda, I know it’s you. Please look at me.” He took her hand in his, and she was amazed that he didn’t flinch away from her, she was horror personified.

His hand felt warm in hers, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. Feeling his hand cupping her chin, she watched his feet as they stepped towards her, “I missed you so much.”

His lips pressed against her forehead as she clung to him, warmer than she could ever imagine. She syphoned strength from his familiarity, and she pressed herself ever closer to him.

Phil was trying to ignore his raging headache and the pulling sensation at his navel. He was there in the moment with Melinda, and he’d missed his best friend for so long, he never dreamed he could reunite with her. Months, years he’d spent, grieving over her, calling her only to hear her voice message. He’d accidentally driven to her apartment more times than he would ever admit, only to remember, and to leave again.

There was always more there, at least for him, and he was so glad to see her again, even if he’d never admit his feelings.

He didn’t notice he was leaving until he was gone.

His warm embrace slowly vanished until she was hugging empty air. He was gone again. Her office was oddly empty, like a black hole that had taken everything important from her.

Of course he’d been brought back to life again, she should have seen it coming. She was Death. Life had never given her anything that she could keep.

 

* * *

 

“Please, let me die,” he whimpered as several onlookers watched over him. The pain was so intense, but all he wanted was to get back to her. She just watched over him, like the doctors, not able to do anything for him.

Resting her hand on his shoulder, she again did the bare minimum as she watched the humanity drain from his eyes.

His voice broke as he whispered for her, “let me die.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting in my drafts for so long now that I thought I'd post. I hope you enjoy <3


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